In August 2023, daughter Jill and I went on a 7-day Greek Enchantment cruise with Holland America. We sailed Venice to Athens, with port stops in Croatia, Turkey, and Greece. And ahead of our cruise, we spent two days in Venice, the world-renowned City of Canals. Our journey was memorable from start to finish!
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our 10-day holiday.
This story, part of a series, is about our fourth day--the day we visited with the Juretic family in their village of Srijane, Croatia.
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our 10-day holiday.
This story, part of a series, is about our fourth day--the day we visited with the Juretic family in their village of Srijane, Croatia.
Split, Croatia (August 20, 2023) There were two ‘hooks’ in the invitation Jill proffered a few months back—an invitation to join her on a 7-day Holland America cruise, the Greek Enchantment.
Venice was the first hook.
“I’ve never been there,” I said to Jill. “Let’s add a day to the front end of our trip to give us two days to explore the famed City of Canals.”
That’s what we did…and we had a great time!
(Click these links to read my stories: Venice—Day One and Venice—Day Two.)
The second hook was Croatia—a country I had not yet visited but was on my bucket list.
“We have two days—two port stops—in Croatia,” Jill said. “We’ll visit Split on Sunday and Korcula, an island in the Adriatic Sea, on Monday.”
“FAAAAN-TASTIC!” I replied. “I’ll check out the excursions and let you know what I find.”
The next morning, I sent this text to Jill: “I like the Country Home Visit in Split and Peljesac Wines & Vineyards in Korcula. Check them out and let me know if you’ll join me.”
Jill replied an hour later; she said, “I’m in on both!”
I’ll cover Korcula in my next story. Now, though, you’re invited to join us on our country home visit in the village of Srijane.
Venice was the first hook.
“I’ve never been there,” I said to Jill. “Let’s add a day to the front end of our trip to give us two days to explore the famed City of Canals.”
That’s what we did…and we had a great time!
(Click these links to read my stories: Venice—Day One and Venice—Day Two.)
The second hook was Croatia—a country I had not yet visited but was on my bucket list.
“We have two days—two port stops—in Croatia,” Jill said. “We’ll visit Split on Sunday and Korcula, an island in the Adriatic Sea, on Monday.”
“FAAAAN-TASTIC!” I replied. “I’ll check out the excursions and let you know what I find.”
The next morning, I sent this text to Jill: “I like the Country Home Visit in Split and Peljesac Wines & Vineyards in Korcula. Check them out and let me know if you’ll join me.”
Jill replied an hour later; she said, “I’m in on both!”
I’ll cover Korcula in my next story. Now, though, you’re invited to join us on our country home visit in the village of Srijane.
Our excursion began at 11AM, which meant Jill and I enjoyed a leisurely morning on board the Oosterdam—an extra hour of sleep, a relaxing breakfast, and time to wander on the ship.
I was the first to leave our cabin—“I’ll see you at 10,” I said to Jill—and went topside to take photos of Split as the Oosterdam sailed into port.
I was the first to leave our cabin—“I’ll see you at 10,” I said to Jill—and went topside to take photos of Split as the Oosterdam sailed into port.
It’s warm already, I thought as I stepped outside. I opened the weather app on my phone. Yikes! It was 85 degrees with 42% humidity, and the afternoon forecast called for a high of 95 degrees. Yep…its going to be another sultry day! No matter, I told myself, as I’m on vacation and about to set foot on a bucket list destination!
This was the quay where we docked. Would you look at that—graffiti! No country escapes it, I guess. Forever curious, I Googled ‘HAJDUK 1911’ to learn if it was gang-related, or what.
This was the quay where we docked. Would you look at that—graffiti! No country escapes it, I guess. Forever curious, I Googled ‘HAJDUK 1911’ to learn if it was gang-related, or what.
It was ‘or what.’
‘HAJDUK,’ I read, is the name of the Croatian football club—what we in the States called ‘soccer’—based in Split. And ‘1911’ was the year this club was founded. Hajduk, by the way, was one of the most successful football clubs in Croatia—six league championships, five Cup titles, and five Super Cup titles.
I snapped a few more pics, and then made my way to the omelet station in the Lido Market.
“What’ll be?” asked the omelet chef when it was my turn to order.
There were oh-so-many choices—a dozen or more meats, veggies, and cheeses.
“I’ll have salmon, mushrooms, tomatoes, and mozzarella, with a few strips of bacon on the side and a sweet roll,” I replied.
I loved watching her flip the omelet in the pan—it rose four or five inches in the air, executed a perfect half somersault, and landed flat in the pan. How did she do that? The answer, I knew, was ‘practice, practice, practice’—hundreds of times every morning, five-six-seven days each week.
‘HAJDUK,’ I read, is the name of the Croatian football club—what we in the States called ‘soccer’—based in Split. And ‘1911’ was the year this club was founded. Hajduk, by the way, was one of the most successful football clubs in Croatia—six league championships, five Cup titles, and five Super Cup titles.
I snapped a few more pics, and then made my way to the omelet station in the Lido Market.
“What’ll be?” asked the omelet chef when it was my turn to order.
There were oh-so-many choices—a dozen or more meats, veggies, and cheeses.
“I’ll have salmon, mushrooms, tomatoes, and mozzarella, with a few strips of bacon on the side and a sweet roll,” I replied.
I loved watching her flip the omelet in the pan—it rose four or five inches in the air, executed a perfect half somersault, and landed flat in the pan. How did she do that? The answer, I knew, was ‘practice, practice, practice’—hundreds of times every morning, five-six-seven days each week.
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Despite the heat and humidity, I did not deny myself breakfast by the pool. I found a table with a wee bit of shade, and over the next 20 minutes or so, I nibbled on my meal as I read about Split, the second largest city in Croatia (pop. 178,000).
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What I read was beyond the scope of this story, but I found a few fun facts to share with you, courtesy of visitsplitcroatia.com:
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Jill was ready when I reached our cabin. I checked my watch. It was 10:15. I brushed my teeth, grabbed my wallet and a hat, and off we went to the World Stage, the meeting point for our excursion. We took two seats near the front of the theater.
“Jill, I’m really looking forward to spending time with a family from Croatia in their home. We have a whole week ahead, but this might be THE best of our planned excursions for me.”
And then I read the blurb from Holland America to her:
“Jill, I’m really looking forward to spending time with a family from Croatia in their home. We have a whole week ahead, but this might be THE best of our planned excursions for me.”
And then I read the blurb from Holland America to her:
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Learn about the way of life in a traditional Dalmatian village as you drive east from Split to Srijane. This village is situated near the Cetina canyon, in the province of Poljica.
The local people cultivated this rugged and beautiful countryside, and you will visit the Juretic family in their rural home. Your host will show you the estate and explain the lifestyle of these hardworking people. After a short tour, you will be treated to a typical lunch. |
“I love to watch your face—it really lights up—when you’re excited about something,” Jill said with a smile. “And I’m happy to share this experience with you.”
A crew member called our excursion and off the ship we marched, with 35 to 40 other passengers, to a motor coach that was parked on the quay. The door closed when the last person boarded the bus. Our tour guide—“You can call me Bobo,” he said—counted noses and gave our driver the thumbs up to leave.
A crew member called our excursion and off the ship we marched, with 35 to 40 other passengers, to a motor coach that was parked on the quay. The door closed when the last person boarded the bus. Our tour guide—“You can call me Bobo,” he said—counted noses and gave our driver the thumbs up to leave.
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A few minutes later, when Bobo introduced himself, we learned that he was the patriarch of the Juretic family, and that his first name was Slobodan.
(Bobo is to my right in this selfie, which I snapped at his home in Srijane.) |
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“I’m a travel agent and licensed tour guide with more than 40 years of tourism experience,” he told us. “Our tour today will take us to the place I am most passionate about—my village and my home. I look forward to sharing both with you.
“Allow me to pronounce the name of my village. It is ‘Se-an-ay.’ Now, your turn.”
I repeated what I heard, as did those around me.
“Very good!” said Bobo, who was being kind because I caught at least five variations.
“Allow me to pronounce the name of my village. It is ‘Se-an-ay.’ Now, your turn.”
I repeated what I heard, as did those around me.
“Very good!” said Bobo, who was being kind because I caught at least five variations.
“It will take us 40 minutes to reach my village. I will point out one or two things as we drive, but mostly I would like to tell you about Srijane.”
I settled back in my seat and gazed out the window; soon I heard Bobo say...
I settled back in my seat and gazed out the window; soon I heard Bobo say...
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“We are near the town of Klis. To your left, you can see the church tower amid the red-roofed buildings. Look past the town, halfway up the hill. There is a medieval fortress. Do you see it?
“The original fortress was built in the 3rd century BC by the Illyrian tribe, but the one we see today was built by the Romans nearly 2,000 years ago. “For those of you who watched the Games of Thrones, the Fortress of Klis was used in the Game of Thrones series when Daenerys seized the city of Meeren.” |
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(I tapped away on the notepad app on my phone as he talked—cryptic notes from which I would write my story.)
“My village is one of three that make up the city of Omis, a Greek word that means ‘place on the hill.’ You will see many hills when we near Srijane, which stretches from the river Cetina across a valley to a high ridge of the Mosor Mountains.
“Srijane, itself made up of seven small hamlets, has 260 inhabitants or so. We are mostly older people, all Croatian and Catholic.”
Someone asked, “Where are the young people?”
“Many of our young people go to Split, Dubrovnik, and other cities for work—there are more and better opportunities there for them—but a number of them return in the summer to spend their holiday with family.”
“My village is one of three that make up the city of Omis, a Greek word that means ‘place on the hill.’ You will see many hills when we near Srijane, which stretches from the river Cetina across a valley to a high ridge of the Mosor Mountains.
“Srijane, itself made up of seven small hamlets, has 260 inhabitants or so. We are mostly older people, all Croatian and Catholic.”
Someone asked, “Where are the young people?”
“Many of our young people go to Split, Dubrovnik, and other cities for work—there are more and better opportunities there for them—but a number of them return in the summer to spend their holiday with family.”
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I snapped this photo as he talked—a contemporary style home in a sparsely populated area alongside the highway we drove on. Can you see the solar panels on the roof of the porch at the front of the house?
Nice looking, I thought, and it looks big. Nearby I spotted a sign for Villa Nika. Later I Googled it and learned that it is a rental in the town of Bisko. Three bedrooms, two baths, about 1,300 square feet, air-conditioned, outdoor swimming pool. All that and more for $225 per night. |
I’d book this place in a heartbeat!
“The soil in the area of my village is not particularly fertile,” I heard Bobo say, “so what we grow—potatoes, grapes, and a few other crops—are mainly for our own needs.
“You’ve come during our hottest month,” he added with a smile, “but you will sit on a covered patio at my home, and there will be a nice breeze for you.”
“How cold does it get in Srijane?” I asked.
“The soil in the area of my village is not particularly fertile,” I heard Bobo say, “so what we grow—potatoes, grapes, and a few other crops—are mainly for our own needs.
“You’ve come during our hottest month,” he added with a smile, “but you will sit on a covered patio at my home, and there will be a nice breeze for you.”
“How cold does it get in Srijane?” I asked.
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“Our coldest month is January—maybe 40 for a high and 30 for a low. Not too cold, I think.
“Ah…soon we will be in my village.” We drove up a narrow, paved road where many of the houses, but not all, were built slightly downhill, separated from the road by short stone walls. The houses looked to be 100 years old or more. As if he had read my mind, Bobo said, “My home—my estate—has been in my family for 300 years. My ancestors built the original buildings, and I have added to it in my time.” |
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I saw the pride on Bobo’s face as he uttered these words.
The bus stopped within minutes, and the door opened. When we exited, we walked a short distance down a slight grade to a dirt-covered patio surrounded by a two-foot-tall wall on which Bobo had placed cushions for people to sit on.
There we met Bobo’s wife (he introduced her, but for the life of me I do not remember her name); in turn, she acquainted us with a dozen varieties or more of locally made grappa and fruit-based brandies. I sampled several—Na zdravlje! (To your health!)—and later bought a bottle of brandy made from pears, a fitting souvenir from my country home visit.
The bus stopped within minutes, and the door opened. When we exited, we walked a short distance down a slight grade to a dirt-covered patio surrounded by a two-foot-tall wall on which Bobo had placed cushions for people to sit on.
There we met Bobo’s wife (he introduced her, but for the life of me I do not remember her name); in turn, she acquainted us with a dozen varieties or more of locally made grappa and fruit-based brandies. I sampled several—Na zdravlje! (To your health!)—and later bought a bottle of brandy made from pears, a fitting souvenir from my country home visit.
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“Follow me,” said Bobo as he led us down a couple of steps and across a sloped stone walkway to his covered courtyard. There we found several tables nestled between the stone and cinderblock buildings that comprised Bobo’s estate.
We feasted on food and wine over the next couple of hours, and were entertained by Bobo’s cousin, Ivan, who sang as he played the gusle (pronounced gus-el). I do not recall the name of this dish—our first—but it struck me as the Croatian version of Italian antipasto, with thin sliced pork, cheese, olives, pickles, crusty bread, and more. It was a light dish that was tasty. |
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Jill and I were seated at a table with seven fellow cruisers—six from the States and one from Great Britain. We ate, drank, and talked as Bobo prepared Soparnik, a traditional savory pie similar to a pizza—except there was dough on top as well as on the bottom. Bobo brushed the lower flattened round of dough with olive oil, and then layered it with fresh chard and cheese before he covered his creation with a second flattened round of dough. After it was baked, he cut it into triangles and served it to his guests.
I was fascinated by the baking process, which took place in a stone building off the patio. |
There, a lady from Bobo’s staff built a fire from kindling on a stone slab. When the fire had burnt to ashes, she brushed half the ashes to one side of the slab and half the ashes to the other side. Then she placed the unbaked Soparnik on the heated slab and—this was the part that truly fascinated me—covered it with the ashes. The Soparnik baked for 20 minutes or so between the heated slab and the ashes.
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In that moment, as I watched her spread the ashes on the dough, I knew why Soparnik had a blackened taste—it was the ashes baked into the dough!
I gorged myself on Soparnik because IT WAS DELICIOUS! “Better slow down, dad. I think there’s another course.” And there was—Bobo’s staff brought heaping platters of roasted lamb, chicken, and potatoes, served with salad, to our table. Mouthwatering, right? Right! But wait…there’s more! Dessert was fritule—powdered fritters—with dates baked into the dough. |
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Between the Soparnik and the platters of lamb and chicken, Bobo introduced his cousin Ivan, who was dressed in a traditional Croatian costume—Bobo called it a uniform—for male folk singers. It was made of wool, and I was certain that Ivan was quite hot given the temperature—but he never broke a sweat, and man, he looked ‘cool’ in his shades!
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The gusle, a traditional one-string instrument used in the Slavic countries, was made from maple wood. As you can see in the photo at the right, Ivan held the gusle between his legs, with the bottom of the neck resting on his left thigh.
“When it is played,” Bobo said, “it is always accompanied by singing a song of heroic exploits by women and men. Ivan will perform a song—musical folklore—about Joan of Arc.”
The style of singing was called ‘ojkanje,’ characterized by sharp and prolonged shaking of the voice on certain syllables. I shot a video, which I wish I could share, because it is hard to translate the words ‘sharp and prolonged shaking of the voice’ into the experience I had as I listed to Ivan. Trust me on this—Ivan did not have a great voice, yet he sang with passion…and his voice was beautiful to hear.
Our country home visit was scheduled for three and a half hours, but lasted five…and I was glad for that because the extra hour and a half meant we spent more time with Bobo, his wife, and staff.
“Well, dad, what did you think?” Jill asked on the ride back.
“Everyone we met was a delight,” I answered, “and Bobo was the consummate host. It was a great experience from start to finish—the cultural information Bobo shared, the scrumptious food and drink, the folkloric entertainment, the countryside setting. These are wonderful memories I will have for a lifetime!”
I can also say, with hindsight, that this WAS the best excursion on our week-long cruise for me!
Jill and I dined at a table for two in the Vista Dining Room that night. I know, I know—it’s hard to believe I was hungry after all the food I consumed that afternoon. My concession—and Jill’s too, of course— was our late seating; it was half past seven when we sat down to dinner.
I ordered a bowl of mushroom and wild rice chowder, swordfish with veggies and potatoes, and two scoops of raspberry sorbet for dessert. Once again, the kitchen knocked it out of the ballpark, and the wait staff provided exemplary service.
“When it is played,” Bobo said, “it is always accompanied by singing a song of heroic exploits by women and men. Ivan will perform a song—musical folklore—about Joan of Arc.”
The style of singing was called ‘ojkanje,’ characterized by sharp and prolonged shaking of the voice on certain syllables. I shot a video, which I wish I could share, because it is hard to translate the words ‘sharp and prolonged shaking of the voice’ into the experience I had as I listed to Ivan. Trust me on this—Ivan did not have a great voice, yet he sang with passion…and his voice was beautiful to hear.
Our country home visit was scheduled for three and a half hours, but lasted five…and I was glad for that because the extra hour and a half meant we spent more time with Bobo, his wife, and staff.
“Well, dad, what did you think?” Jill asked on the ride back.
“Everyone we met was a delight,” I answered, “and Bobo was the consummate host. It was a great experience from start to finish—the cultural information Bobo shared, the scrumptious food and drink, the folkloric entertainment, the countryside setting. These are wonderful memories I will have for a lifetime!”
I can also say, with hindsight, that this WAS the best excursion on our week-long cruise for me!
Jill and I dined at a table for two in the Vista Dining Room that night. I know, I know—it’s hard to believe I was hungry after all the food I consumed that afternoon. My concession—and Jill’s too, of course— was our late seating; it was half past seven when we sat down to dinner.
I ordered a bowl of mushroom and wild rice chowder, swordfish with veggies and potatoes, and two scoops of raspberry sorbet for dessert. Once again, the kitchen knocked it out of the ballpark, and the wait staff provided exemplary service.
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Afterwards, we went to the Piano Bar, where we listened—and sang along, too—as two pianists crooned the lyrics, dueling at times, as they played songs from the 70s, 80s, and 90s. It was a fun way to end our day.
I look forward to sharing my next story with you—our port stop on Korcula. Stay tuned.
I look forward to sharing my next story with you—our port stop on Korcula. Stay tuned.